


Forgive Me

by Angel_In_Soho



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, God has a Plan, Good Gabriel and Michael, Hurt/Comfort, I try to make things a bit more interesting?? It is already but hey hcs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_In_Soho/pseuds/Angel_In_Soho
Summary: Questions were raised, and sometimes answers were received in the long run. But if there was anything that is to be a sure case, it’s that someone had crossed the line. However, maybe it was all part of a Plan.It wasn't only a Fallen Angel who needed forgiving.





	Forgive Me

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to sound my horn to my friend and beta, Ellie, thanks for reading this mess lmao

_ I never quite understood why You do things, I’m genuinely curious . _

_ That’s alright, my dear. Everyone becomes curious eventually. _

_ But how so? We are creatures of obedience. You know more than anyone for what is right or wrong. _

_ That is very true. _

_ …Is asking questions bad, dear Lord? _

* * *

Once upon a time, an angel and a demon met together in a small restaurant—budding as a famous one, the angel could already predict—to discuss about several things. How each other was, and what have they done in the past few months and years or so. They didn’t meet quite often, as of now it’s been ten years since they’ve met once again. But they’ve had stayed consistent with their agreement—a little Arrangement that their perspective sides did not know about—and have been, for about two centuries or so.

The angel in this party of two is named Aziraphale; Principality, Guardian of the East Gate of Eden. The demon was Crowley, the Snake in the Garden of Eden. At first glance they were normal folks, just having lunch—or rather, the angel was, the other seemed to be just humoring a cup of wine—and no more than human. But once you remove the shades on the other’s eyes, one would see the difference; once you talk to the angel, your feelings alleviate immediately. The demon liked tricking with people, but never was his influence shown like the angel’s for he acted on a more tamped down scale.

Right now, they were approaching dangerous territory, Crowley could admit, yet it was of his own doing; the angel beside him just listening intently to his drunken ramblings.

“They’ve—they’ve decided to— _ make  _ me do more c-coursework, Angel, I’ve hated it ever since!” Crowley hiccupped, leaning on the stone table. “Visits and visits and  _ visits  _ of the demons. They make me hate Hell sometimes, what a  _ bother.” _

“Peculiar that is.” Aziraphale commented lightly, gazing at him in a concerned way. He took another bite of his food. “Are you not just one of the emissaries brought by Hell to Earth? I quite thought that you would not be alone here.”

“I’m  _ not  _ alone.” The demon muttered. “I’ve got  _ you,  _ a thorn—a thorn on my thumb—“

“Side,” Aziraphale corrected. “The term is ‘thorn in my side’, Crowley.”

“Who  _ cares,  _ no one gets thorned on the side for all I care,” Crowley remarked. “But you are a thorn, on my side, thorn on my side. Angels and demons and demons and angels. It’s amusing, really!”

“Yes.” The angel cast a nod. “As you are a demon and I am an angel.”

There was a beat of silence before, in a small whisper, Crowley said, “Once an angel.”

Aziraphale turned his gaze to his companion, his concern more palpably written on his features. “I…beg your pardon, Crowley?”

He reached out to nudge the man, who groaned in response; then he went on a drunken tirade about  _ boring demons and boring presentations, boring sins and boring temptations _ . Aziraphale set his spoon down, shaking his head as he recognized the beginning of a massive hangover. Before the demon could reach for another glass of wine, Aziraphale stopped him, blocking Crowley’s hand.

“I think that’s enough—“

“They don’t do paperwork and updates that much in… in your part of the world, don’t they, Angel?” Crowley said, seemingly as a non-sequitur. His hand was still outstretched, batting uselessly against the angel’s hand. “Won’t check on what you’re doing. They’ve mellowed ever since your Master started going through other people.”

“Crowley.” He softly reprimanded. “Be careful of what you speak of. I know you’re a demon but I would rather not have the Lord’s actions be criticized like that.” He removed the bottle, making Crowley groan in disapproval. “ _ Crowley—“ _

“Bah, you and your lot never  _ ever  _ entertained questions. It’s boring really. Being curious has its perks.” He smirked to Aziraphale. “Live a little, Angel! They’re not going to check everything that you’d do. Get more of that soup that you like. They’re not  _ here.” _

Aziraphale huffed, and glared a bit, which actually surprised Crowley. “Unruly, really, and no, I shan’t when you’re acting like  _ that,  _ Crowley. I’d rather enjoy lunch with you if you’re a bit more sober.” He turned his head away. “And for the record, I  _ do  _ entertain questions. I most certainly am quite curious.”

“Oh?” Crowley perked up, interested. “Now I’ve got to hear this. Aside from your lovely action of giving away the sword, are you telling me you’re willing to be a lot more  _ curious?”  _ He smirked. “Prove it then, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “I will not be tempted by you, you fiend.”

Crowley only grinned afterwards when Aziraphale ordered another of that bowl of soup he liked—and bonus, a bit of bread that Crowley sneakily stole off the angel’s plate.

* * *

_ Ineffable? It would happen either way? _

_ Yes. _

_ Would You be there, always? _

_ Of course. I will see to it. _

_ Then… would you answer if I needed to ask something, my Lord? _

* * *

Crowley was a demon who tended to be with the people—stayed with humanity completely, immersed in their actions. They were a curious lot, which demons and even angels couldn’t fully pinpoint. They also had something that Crowley had not, which was freedom—and something that he yearned in the past.

It also was the reason for his Fall.

Adam and Eve exiting the Garden of Eden was his action, but it wasn’t as if he did it by mere miracle; no, God gave them freedom and they chose to listen to the temptation of the snake. Yet they were humans, both with and without ‘only’ as an adjective, for they were defenseless in the harsh world outside a well-taken cared off Eden but freer, with choices.

It was also the reason why Aziraphale gave the flaming sword to them.

He loved Adam and Eve. They were interesting and fascinating; they always wanted to explore. They named the flora and fauna around their area. They sometimes talk to him about different things. He was amused that they opted to talk to him—the guardian of the East gate, rather than the one on the West, North, or South, but he paid no heed. If they chose to talk to him than Uriel or the others, well, who was he to judge?

It was peaceful like that, for a while.

Then out of the blue-- they were slowly getting more curious about the life outside the walls. He felt a familiar feeling of dread coil in his gut, and he was scared, terrified for their lives. They were slowly, steadily getting near to dangerous territory and he didn’t know what would happen to them if they committed treason against. He was afraid, and he gradually tried to pull away from them.

_ It’s my fault,  _ he thought apprehensively as the two scaled the walls, and talked about the life outside. What they might see.  _ I told them about the world and now they want to explore. _

He heard them calling out for his name, but he risked leaving the gate for a moment—they definitely would find him there.

Another mistake—it seemed like it was the window of opportunity that the demon that had been lurking around the premises needed. The moment he turned away, the demon took it as an act for temptation, and he did so little—so  _ little.  _ He said so little yet it was the final push that Adam and Eve scrounged for. The thirst for knowledge; Aziraphale had instigated that.

He felt relieved when they weren’t going to be killed. Casted out, yes, and unfortunately removed of His Grace, but he was still able to offer them protection.

The sword that he was supposed to leave behind—he gave it to them.

“You  _ gave  _ it away?” The demon in the form of a snake—named Crowley—incredulously repeated with an awed grin. Aziraphale winced.

“I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing,” he muttered, wringing his hands.  _ I most certainly did, I most certainly did, didn’t I? The Lord would understand if… I lost it, right? Would Heaven condemn me for it? _

“Don’t be silly. You’re an angel, you can do no wrong.” Crowley commented, watching Adam and Eve battle a lion in the sands.

He turned to the demon; he seemed very kind, despite being the one who tempted Adam and Eve. “Oh. Oh—thank you. Thank you.”

It was a throwaway comment, but it eased his fears for a moment.  _ Better be put on probation than leave them behind with nothing. It wasn’t wrong. It was for the good of Adam and Eve,  _ Aziraphale thought as he tried to squash down the minute pride he felt when Adam was able to fend for them both with the use of his sword.  _ Yes, it was for their good. Heaven must be able to distinguish a good act, could they not? _

The rain was falling, and he lifted his wing for Crowley to get under.

“Lucky lot, huh.” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“They defied God’s orders and was cast out of Eden.” The demon said, making his wings disappear and patted Aziraphale’s wing as if to adjust the height. The action would’ve made Aziraphale sigh in exasperation, but he was intrigued at what the demon meant (and it was impolite to bother him).

“I doubt that’s any good.” He muttered.

Seeing his expression, Crowley waved his hand towards his direction. “That’s not what I meant. At least they’ve had you to watch over them.” He sighed, a bitter tone lacing his words. “I didn’t have anyone. The curse of a Fallen, perhaps.”

Aziraphale opted not to speak, knowing that he had no right to ask.

* * *

_ Is it possible for something not to happen according to Your Plan, Lord? _

_ Not so. I always play to win, do you know that? _

_ Then is everyone involved part of your plan, too? _

_ Yes, in short terms. _

_ If they don’t go according to your Plan? _

_ That would be a problem, but rest assured; they will get what they deserve. _

* * *

“We’re  _ fighting?”  _ Aziraphale repeated, sword on his hilt. He placed a shaking hand on the handle. They were in one of the many armory rooms that Heaven possessed. “Our fellow Angels?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel nodded. He seemed slightly perturbed, but he was great at schooling his face into a more-neutral, or more-appropriate look. Right now he opted for the nonchalance he was known for when he was going to announce something to the other angels. “Unfortunately. It’s a thing, and I’m just saying, it’s God’s decree.”

“And I’m in the… I’m in the front lines.” Aziraphale murmured, swallowing. “With the Archangels?”

“Seems so. You’re a great swordsman, Aziraphale. Put that to use.” Gabriel turned around, and Aziraphale noticed the horn that the Archangel brought out only for ‘special occasions’. It made Aziraphale twitch for a second. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m…not.”

“Lying isn’t good, you know.” Gabriel pointed out, offering a sympathetic smile. “I understand, you know? They’re family too, somehow. Those guys worked under my command too and it’s not like I want to kill them. But we have to fight them. They’re leading a  _ rebellion,  _ Aziraphale. They’re  _ revolting.”  _ He cast his eyes down. “We have to… we have to drive them away, Aziraphale.”

“Drive them away.” Aziraphale repeated, and he knew that he was pleading. “We could just drive them away, Gabriel. “

“That’s out of the question, Aziraphale.” Michael’s voice suddenly pierced through their conversation, jolting them out of their reverie. “And Archangel Gabriel. I cannot believe that you’re even entertaining—“

“He has the best in mind.” Gabriel protested. “He just wanted to clarify. It’s not like I accepted this easily. I always believe that our fellow angels would have the best of interests.”

“In that regard, we lost track of the growing unrest in the other factions.” Michael pointed out. She shook her head. “Stop discussing any further.  _ Now.  _ We need to slay them; they are our enemies now.”

Aziraphale looked at Gabriel, and watched as the other angel worked his jaw. “The plan was to drive them out.” He repeated, realization filtering into his looks. He looked at Aziraphale. “They could be our enemies. Michael—“

“ _ Gabriel!”  _ Michael raised her voice. She sent an icy look at Aziraphale. “ _ Aziraphale. Enough.” _

“Yes.” Aziraphale mumbled. He shook his head. Gabriel stood between them, and placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“Okay. We get it.” Gabriel muttered. “I’ll still sound the horn. Don’t worry.”

Michael’s icy look thawed into a face of compassion. “It’s unfortunate. But apparently it was in the Ineffable Plan.” She brought out her longsword. “We can’t argue with the Ineffable Plan.”

* * *

_ Please forgive me. I only ever asked because I was curious. Are you there, Lord? _

_ Always. _

_ Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. For what I may ask. For what I may do. _

* * *

Aziraphale swallowed as Crowley cursed the Great Plan. Unbidden, he said, “May you be forgiven.”

Crowley gave a chilling, unamused laugh. Aziraphale forced himself to be strong. “I won't be forgiven. Not  _ ever.  _ That's part of a demon's job description. Unforgivable. That's what I  _ am _ .”

“You were an angel once.” He whispered, voice shaking.

“That was a long time ago!” Crowley answered back, enraged, and he could feel  _ hurt. _ Aziraphale fought the urge to step back.

He didn’t want this to be their end, but it was—it  _ was  _ becoming the end, and for all of his belief in the Great Plan, he wanted to save humanity as well. Humanity was worth saving, and he didn’t want to just leave everyone behind.

He was a _Principality_ for Hell’s sake! It was his duty to protect and _why can’t Crowley understand that?_ Every hopeful word that Crowley was saying—go away together, to the big universe, to Alpha Centauri—stabbed Aziraphale in the heart. He _wanted_ it so badly. He wanted to save him again. He wanted to save everyone again, _please, Crowley, don’t go._ _This isn’t how we should do it._

“Go off together?” He said out loud, stopping the urge to laugh helplessly. “Listen to yourself.”

Crowley raised his hands in the air. “How long have we been friends?  _ Six thousand years _ !”

“Friends?” Aziraphale repeated, and his words shook. He remembered Gabriel and Michael. He remembered his sword, flaming, against another angel.

“We're not friends.”

_ Understand my situation,  _ he pleaded in his mind. He wanted to say words but his throat closed off all the time. The Words of Heaven were hurtling out of his mouth and he couldn’t even acknowledge to himself that they were lies. “We are an  _ angel _ and a  _ demon _ .”

_ Dig deeper,  _ he shouted in his mind. “We have nothing whatsoever in common!”

_ Deny him.  _ “I don't even like you.”

Crowley shook his head and stared at him with plain, unadulterated disbelief. “You  _ do _ .”

_ I’ve seen this happen before, Crowley. Don’t make it harder for me and for Heaven. Don’t make me fight another war. _

_ “ _ We're on opposite sides.” He protested weakly.

Crowley spun around angrily. “We're on our side!”

_ If I question one more thing anymore, then more would follow. Please, Crowley.  _ “There is no  _ our side,  _ Crowley. Not anymore.” He closed his eyes. He was aware of how much his heart was beating fast, how his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He knew that he was going to severe any connection he has with Crowley after this. “It's over.”

* * *

_ Are those punished always deserving of it? _

_ Yes. _

_ …Yes? _

_ Is that a question? _

_ I was just curious. _

* * *

“It’s funny how things work sometimes.” Crowley murmured as his gaze flitted towards the ducks in St. James’ Park. Aziraphale was near him, chucking bits of corn to them. “I honestly didn’t think that we were going to live after Armageddon.”

“I don’t think anyone did.” Aziraphale answered, smiling. He placed his hands on the rails. “We pulled a lot of strings that should not have been possible.”

“Yet it worked.”

“That is very true.” The angel nodded. “Maybe it’s part of the—“

“Shut  _ up,  _ Angel.” Crowley groaned, yet with no heat behind his words. “We are absolutely not talking about the Ineffable Plan on this fine, dandy, positive, grand morning.”

Aziraphale tried not to grin, but failed as Crowley rolled his eyes behind his shades. “Oh, but why not? The Lord most likely gave us a huge leeway. Somehow we survived the Not-Apocalypse and was able to trick Heaven and Hell.”

“By a margin, yeah.” Crowley whispered, gripping the rails. “It still makes me mad how they would’ve treated you, Angel.”

Aziraphale waited for a few moments—used the act of throwing corn till there was none—before speaking about anything. “Crowley… come on. I’ve told you. I don’t mind.”

“You  _ can’t  _ just ‘not mind’!” Crowley protested, and it was said with so much irritation that Aziraphale was shocked. “Angel, they got  _ hellfire  _ and told you—me, to just step in it! How can you just say that it’s nothing?”

“They wanted you to bathe in holy water.” Aziraphale pointed out, deliberately being obtuse. He didn’t want to get to the topic he knew that the demon would drag them to. “Which is positively horrible. They had a large crowd to watch and everything!”

“Hell’s like that.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “If it’s dramatic enough, it happens. I’m just surprised that the man underneath didn’t break out his slumber and decided to dunk the bath tub on you, if I’m perfectly honest.”

“Which is not at all.” Aziraphale answered easily said back, letting out a pleased smile when the demon snorted out a laugh.

“Of course. He’s probably not alright with holy water too.” He sighed. “But my point still stands, Angel. It’s  _ not  _ nothing that they did it without any trial. Gabriel looks at me disappointedly and Michael does her glare. Sandalphon looks like a  _ jerk,  _ and Uriel had the worst smile. No trial! Christ— Hell is better than Heaven at this point!“

“ _ Crowley!”  _ Aziraphale glared, looking around. While they didn’t belong to any side anymore, he shouldn’t just throw both sides under the bus so freely. He still wanted people to strive for Heaven. “Do not—“

Crowley ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He pushed himself off from the rails and gestured wildly. “You deserve to be treated  _ fairly _ because you were just trying to do something  _ good!“ _

Aziraphale exhaled shakily at the statement; this has been something that he’s been trying to avoid, ever since Crowley told him how his experience went in Heaven. He had just accepted it quietly,  _ too  _ quietly apparently, which he knew rubbed the demon the wrong way.

For the past three days, the demon had been trying to breach to that topic, but he held on. He didn’t want to… didn’t want to hurt Crowley again.

But also-- really, they saved humanity. They duped Hell and Heaven. He really shouldn’t be hung up on  _ his  _ execution!

He could see that people were getting concerned, and rubbed his temples. “Crowley. Stop with that tirade you’re doing. You’re trying to relate this to another thing—you’re making a scene—“

“Making a—“, Crowley scoffed. He could feel the demon’s ire rise, and he heard a snap, and suddenly they weren’t in the park anymore. They were in his home, lights turned on. He slammed his hand on the table. “Here, I can’t make a scene, right? Will you listen to me now?”

“No.” Aziraphale frowned, turning around. “Crowley. I understand where you’re coming from—“

“Where  _ I’m  _ coming from?” Crowley repeated in an exasperated tone, frustrated and angry at the same time. “I’m not making this about me!”

“Then stop pointing it out, Crowley!” He yelled back, eyes brimming with tears. “Stop it! I don’t want to talk about it!”

He didn’t know why he answered so strongly; usually, he held himself back when it came to feelings, especially when Crowley was involved. But maybe it was because of the tone Crowley had used; the same tone he had used when he rejected his offer to run away to Alpha Centauri. The one where he said  _ ‘You’re so clever, how can you be so stupid?’  _ The one where he said, on that bench in Tadfield before the bus stop:  __

_ 'You don't have a side anymore. _

_ Neither of us do. _

_ We're on our own side.' _

Crowley stopped stock still, and he lifted himself off from the table. “Angel,” he called in sudden worry. “Angel—“

“You fell for the lightest of reasons, Crowley!” He found himself saying. His memories of the Revolution was plain as day, and how so many angels fell towards Earth, and past beyond it. How one of them was cast out because he had hung out with the ‘wrong people’. “It feels awful for me not to have been punished as well!”

“Angel.” Crowley murmured in somber surprise. “Angel, I swear, I don’t mean that you should’ve fallen—“

“But of course I should have, Crowley!” He looked at him, and noticed that Crowley had removed his sunglasses. He was staring at Crowley’s beautiful eyes, so concerned, so worried. “I asked the questions. I did the wrong deeds. I deserve the punishment. Yet when I called he wouldn’t answer, Crowley!”

“No one deserves to be discorpo—to be  _ killed  _ because you doubted the Ineffable Plan, Aziraphale!” Crowley cut in, and in a moment out of his character, curled a hand over his shoulder and hugged him. Aziraphale could feel how stiff Crowley was in the way he hugged him, but the action was what counts. “I fell because I crossed the line, Angel. That’s just how it is.”

He buried his face on Crowley’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.“ He apologized shakily. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying those things. I’m sorry for rejecting you as my friend. Those are the greatest lies I’ve ever said in my life. Please, forgive me, Crowley—“

“Come on now,” Crowley murmured. “Demons don’t forgive, just like angels don’t ask for forgiveness to demons of all things.”

“I’m asking you as Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered. “Not a… not as a demon. Nor the Serpent. Nor the fallen angel. I’m just asking you, Anthony J. Crowley. My friend.” He breathed in deeply. “I’m sorry for not believing in you earlier. I’m sorry for not understanding your questions.”

“You’re clever, Angel. You’re different.” Crowley said strongly. Aziraphale noted easily that he didn’t address the apologies, but the demon was patting his back. “And maybe God Up There found something in you, too. You’re a bastard yet never let you go. We don’t understand whatever God does at all but there’s a plan that we don’t know of and honestly, you’re here. You’re safe. Maybe God’s seen through you, Angel.” He tilted his head.

“I asked questions, but… I’m. I wasn’t honest when I said ‘just questions’. Those were boarding heresy, Angel. But you always had something that the other angels never had. You were compassionate and you were loving. You were kind. What was J’s favorite thing to say?”

“Be kind to one another.” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley smirked. “He’s got the better idea, you know. He’s been the kindest from everyone I’ve seen. Really strong too, do you know he walked without food and water in the desert? What a champ.”

“Crowley,” he reprimanded, and he couldn’t help it—he laughed. “That’s horrid.”

“Mhm.” Crowley rubbed Aziraphale’s back. “God Upstairs saw something in you, Angel. I did too. Maybe that’s why I was so adamant in making you my friend.” He laughed. “Do you remember what I told you in the Garden of Eden?”

He could remember vividly. “What about it?”

“No angel—or no demon—ever paid kindness to me like that, Angel.” Crowley smiled, and for a moment, Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. “Every moment, I think I become better. Maybe that’s how I became a little bit ‘good’. You were there, Angel. I’ve paid for my sins and I hated Heaven for so long, but because of you, I feel like I could forgive them, even a little bit.”

It was stupid, but he wanted to make sure. “How about me?”

Crowley laughed softly. “Sure, for hurting my feelings. But I’ve always known you didn’t mean them, Angel. There was nothing to ever forgive.”

* * *

_ I hope they’re safe, Lord. _

_ They will be, but Hell would be how they view their punishment. _

_ Lord, can’t you forgive them? _

_ I did from the moment the horns sounded. _

_ Then they could still be saved? _

_ That’s another question. _

_ It’s just—sometimes they don’t know they’re doing you wrong, Lord. And they get a bit curious like me too. I think that’s… that’s understandable, isn’t it? The Ineffable Plan has always been a subject of all angels in all circles. I’ve even heard the Seraphim talk about it. _

_ Is that so? _

_ Ah. Y-Yes… Was I not supposed to say that? Oh dear. _

_ Well then, I think you’re ready for something, Angel. _

* * *

“Fall.” He ordered resolutely, looking at how God battled Lucifer. He tore his gaze away and pressed his foot down on his chest. “Please.”

“Why not kill me?” The rebelling angel gasped. “Don’t even pretend you’re better than the others. Follow your Master like a hive mind, obedient creatures! You  _ never  _ entertained questions. Curiosity—has its perks!”

“Please stop talking.” Aziraphale pushed him down again and planted his sword beside him, the flames dying down. “Fall. Please. Then I—then someday I could help you.”

“ _ Help me?” _

“Please.” He pleaded. He could hear Gabriel choking off and steeling his voice as he tried to convince another angel to fall. He had failed, apparently, as he heard a scream. Gabriel sounded the horn again; the second wave of attacks were coming. The second line of defense were coming.

Aziraphale was running out of time.

He turned his gaze back onto the ginger-haired angel. “Please, fall.”

Their eyes met, and the rebelling angel snorted. “You’re a bit of a bastard, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t help it—he gave a small smile, despite the battlefield. Despite the angel letting go and falling. “Perhaps I am.”

* * *

_ What do you mean, Lord? Am I in trouble? _

_ Goodness no. I think I just know who you are in the Great Plan. _

_ You… you do? _

_ Oh yes. _

_ Angel Aziraphale, how about you become a Principality? _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it! I hope you guys noticed my little parallels and such (especially Aziraphale asking for forgiveness, Crowley finding forgiveness and giving it). Also I very much enjoyed writing the angels scenes. Okay that's all yay thank you in advance!


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